


Homecoming Heroes

by FieryEclipse



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Alternate Homecoming, Ando and Peter would make such a cute team, Ando deserves more credit than he got in my opinion, Homecoming, I PROMISE THERE'S LOTS OF SYLAR IN THIS STORY, M/M, Save the Cheerleader Save the World, Season 1, Shame they didn't work together in canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieryEclipse/pseuds/FieryEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if Ando had actually gone with Peter to "save the cheerleader, save the world" at Homecoming? </p>
<p>This is a fun idea I had about them teaming up to take down The Brain Man together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Just a funny idea I came up with when re-watching "Homecoming". I re-wrote most of the conversation they actually had in the show, but kept to the same idea. I think Peter and Ando would have been very interesting to see work together, and I hope you enjoy! :)

Peter shuffled anxiously in the back of the cab, aware of every second passing. He tapped his hands against his thighs in an attempt to feel busy doing  _ something _ more productive than sitting here with nothing to do but wait. His eyes flicked quickly over the scrolling view outside: unfamiliar, empty and brazen compared to the bustling streets of New York.

 

He didn't even know what the meeting place looked like, and so could only place his trust in the driver. Checking his watch for the millionth time, the numbers 19:12 shone back at him ominously. Exactly an hour to go.

 

“This is it.” The gruff voice of the driver shook Peter out of thoughts of blood and pain, and he fumbled in his pockets for the fare. If the driver noticed his shaking hands he said nothing, and took the money with a polite smile. 

 

“Thanks, buddy.” Peter said, peering through the window to conform that, yes, this was the place. The words “Burnt Toast Diner” reflected brightly onto the window, illuminating his pretty, panicked face. 

 

Now that he was finally here, he wasn't sure he wanted to be. He knew that so much was depending on him, that the future of the whole world literally balanced on his actions tonight. He could save millions of lives if he just got out this cab. It was everything he'd prayed for for years, his deepest, strongest wish: to be a hero. The ever burning need to prove himself as extraordinary shone brighter at this perfect opportunity to do just that! But it was difficult to ignore the haunting image of Isaac's painting and to run straight into the situation that would most certainly cause his death. The photograph currently sat heavy in his pocket.

 

This battle of wills, although fighting at lightening speed in Peter's head, apparently wasn't as fast in the real world. The taxi driver's eyebrows frowned slightly in the mirror at the passenger who was now just wasting his time and staring out the window lost in thought. He cleared his throat. “Have a nice night, then.” He said loudly, loud enough to startle Peter once again into the present.

 

Peter's stomach jolted at those words.  _ Have a nice night.  _ Yes, it'd probably be wonderful bleeding out in a crumpled heap in less than an hour. His throat was tight but he managed to word a husky reply. “Thanks. You too.” 

 

And now there could be no more hesitating. It was already 7:15pm, and every second was precious. Very aware of what he was getting himself into, but being as brave and selfless as usual, Peter pushed open the door and set his first foot down in Odessa for the first time in his life. And most likely the last.

 

The cab rolled away as soon as the door closed, and Peter felt very alone without an immediate escape route. There could be no turning back. This was it.

 

He swallowed a few times and looked around nervously, before noticing a lone figure standing outside the window to the diner. The man was thin with dark hair, had his back to him, and was busying himself with a newspaper. Peter tucked his overgrown fringe away, cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps towards the man. “Ando?” His voice was small and weak, but there was nothing to be done about that.

 

At once the man straightened, lowering the newspaper and turning to the sound of his name. Reassured at that, Peter walked purposely the rest of the distance, finding courage in the fact that he wasn't going to do this alone. Ando surveyed this stranger silently for a moment, eyebrows raised and mouth open in a small “o”. He looked surprised, perhaps as surprised to see Peter's face as Peter was to see Ando's.

 

The first thought Peter had was that Ando was... not what he'd been expecting, to say the least. He didn't look at all how he'd imagined Hiro's sidekick to look. From what he could recall of the time-stopping man, he was powerful, scary and well... badass. Not that Peter ever profiled others or judged them on their appearance, but he had expected Ando to be more similar to how Hiro had been. But the Hiro on the subway had been from the future, and maybe future Ando wore leather trenchcoats and was badass too. Peter smiled at him reassuringly, grateful to have someone here with him. But the other man's eyes were still vacant, and only then Peter thought he'd best introduce himself.

 

“Hey, I'm Peter Petrelli.” He shook Ando's hand with both of his own, and caught the delayed recognition in the darker haired man's face. A small, relieved chuckle escaped Peter's lips, and he began to feel more sure of his reckless decision to come here. “I'm so sorry it took forever. I couldn't get a flight and the... taxis in this town.” He waved an arm around generally to emphasise his point. So much time had been wasted running around the airport and having all his prospective taxis given to those in more need. And yes, at the time the pregnant woman with aching feet had seemed in more need than Peter saving the world. 

 

Every lost minute pressed clammily down on him. But there was no sense in fretting over that, it wasn't too late. The world still had a chance.

 

“We still have time. The cheerleader's school is Union Wells, not too far from here I think. I don't know much more, but I think the guy that's hunting her will attack around a quarter past eight.” He talked quickly, nerves loosening his tongue. The words were heavy but he followed them up with the tiniest of smiles in an attempt to encourage Ando to be brave too, as surely he must've been as scared as Peter was. Except, while Peter felt like every step drained more of his resolve, Ando was hiding his nerves very well. But then, Peter rationalised, feeling better already, Ando knew exactly what Hiro was capable of. And if he was powerful enough for Ando to trust him so completely, so would Peter. “Where's Hiro?” He looked around them eagerly for another person, but there was no ponytailed, sword-wielding Master of Time and Space to be seen anywhere.

 

After a few more seconds' hesitation, Ando finally spoke. “Yes.” He said, looking around as if for Hiro also. “Hiro, yes. Come, I will show you.” His Japanese accent was strong, and his face rippled as he visibly thought over his options. Peter followed him obediently into the diner, right to a make-shift shrine at the far end. Only too late, when faced with a loving collage of photographs of a cute, red haired woman, did Peter recognise the distinct air in the place. One of mourning. He'd become too familiar with it over his short time as a hospice nurse, but he didn't need that knowledge or experience to know something terrible had happened here recently.

 

Ando hovered by the shrine for a moment until finding his intended photograph. He pointed a finger at it, at a round-faced Japanese man grimacing beneath a paper crown. “Hiro is there.” He said, almost unsurely, and Peter picked the photograph off the wall to see it better. Sans sword, ponytail and beard, Hiro, too, was completely different than Peter had envisioned him. But it would be a while before he could forget that face.

 

“She was his friend?” Peter asked gently, already feeling empathy rise within him for this man he barely knew. 

 

“Yes.” Ando said, nodding his head. “She died here today. She was murdered.” His mouth twisted into a harsh line, and Peter quickly looked around the diner in horror.

 

“Murdered?” He repeated in a course whisper, just in case he had misheard. But no, Ando's solemn nod confirmed it.

 

“Yes. It was awful. Very gruesome, and the man who did it got away so fast. Nobody saw him, and they'll probably never catch him.” Again, his mouth twisted as he bit back more words he wanted to add. “He cut her head open. He is very powerful and dangerous.”

 

It took Peter a moment to digest that information. “Wait. You mean  _ he has an ability _ ? Like me? Like Hiro?” There were a few tense moments before Ando nodded.

 

“I think it might be the same man hunting the cheerleader. She is in mortal danger.”

 

“Yeah, yeah I know, we've gotta hurry.” Peter pushed his defiant hair back into place again and rocked slightly on the spot, chewing his thumbnail in thought. “That guy in Isaac's painting cut the cheerleader's head open. Or tried to. It must be the same guy, and if he's already been  _ here _ ... then he might be at the school right now!” Ando mirrored the horrified expression on Peter's face: eyes wide, mouth open and forehead creased. “So where's Hiro? We can't waste any more time...” He glanced at the clock above the shrine, and his stomach tied into a few more knots. 7:18pm.

 

“Hiro...” Ando's voice trailed off. He looked worried, as if unsure what to say next. “Went to save Charlie. He's gone, he can't help us.”

 

“Gone?” Fear crept slowly up Peter's neck, stronger than before because of the absence of his last hope. There was no way he could survive if Hiro wasn't with him. Isaac's painting burned a hole through his pocket. With no Hiro, there would be no stopping time, no saving the cheerleader or saving the world... Unless he, Peter Petrelli, did as he usually did and took the reckless, stupid path that would only hurt him, all for the benefit of those around. He didn't like the thought of that, but what else could he do? Turn his back on everyone who needed him? Let the world down...? There was no way he could survive that guilt, if he even survived the predicted explosion at all. He'd rather die now, than be responsible for the deaths of millions.

 

_ You wanted to be extraordinary _ ... humourlessly, he supposed he  _ had  _ been extraordinary all along. Extraordinarily stupid, that is.

 

Sighing, Peter checked the clock again, although barely twenty seconds had passed since he'd last looked. But twenty seconds was more than enough time for him to make his decision. When he spoke, his voice was rough in his throat but strong for the first time since he'd arrived in Texas. “We don't have long. I'm gonna get going, you don't have to follow me. Tell Hiro when he gets back where I am. If it's... too late... tell him I tried my best, and I'm sorry.”

 

Genuine surprise lingered on Ando's handsome face. “ _ You  _ would... face this man alone? He could kill you!” Although a little out of place, the impressed look he wore boosted Peter's confidence a little. He couldn't even remember the last time someone had been impressed with him about anything. 

 

“I have to do something. I can't just sit here and let him kill that innocent girl.” He couldn't outrun his destiny – hadn't he been searching for it just so recently on that rooftop? And now that it was served before him, agreeable or not, he had to let fate take its course. So with one last, apologetic look at Ando, Peter turned his back on him and the shrine for the waitress, for Charlie. He headed straight for the door without looking back, and he imagined his companion had followed him, if even for just an ounce of moral support. 

 

“Wait! Peter!” Peter turned, heart pounding, to see Ando slow to a stop right next to him. His face was flushed and he looked fresh from the edge of an epiphany. “I will come with you! I can't just sit by and do nothing either. That girl is waiting for us.” A nervous grin lit his face, and Peter clapped his shoulder gratefully, an echo of the way he had so many times with Nathan. It was a sign of companionship, of trust. And he felt those things now: 53 minutes from his death, in an unfamiliar place, with this man who was just as willing to risk it all for a higher purpose as he was. 

 

“Thank you. I really appreciate your help, Ando.” He squeezed his shoulder briefly, Ando's face conveying the same fear and adrenaline that now coursed through Peter's veins, and together they turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night, and took their first steps towards their destinies.

 

*

 

 

The Nissan Versa had cut their journey considerably shorter than Peter had expected, which was a great thing. But they had circled the same roads multiple times now and still got nowhere, which infuriated them both with every tick of his watch.

 

At one point they screeched the car to a stop beside an elderly local to ask for directions. But after a hurried exchange - in which Peter practically dragged Ando over physically to help him wring information out of the man, who then turned and sped away from the overbearing strangers before uttering one useful word – they set back out onto the road in a heightened sense of panic.

 

“It will be alright Peter. We will make it. Remember the painting.” Ando said with just the right amount of assurance to be comforting. 

 

“Yeah well, we still dunno if that's before or after that guy will attack the cheerleader...” Peter mumbled feebly. But Ando had a point. All of Isaac's paintings that had so far come to pass had been accurate, which meant they probably  _ would  _ reach the school in time. But the whole foundation of this journey relied on the future being able to be changed, so really there was no win in either situation.

 

Fortunately, when Peter's watch flashed 19:51, they drove past a gaggle of school students who had obviously been delayed by some hefty pre-drinking. The alcohol was useful in making them very helpfully talkative, unlike the older man. But counteracted this because, at first sight, the girls grabbed and clutched both Peter and Ando, two undeniably handsome men, and fawned all over them eagerly. They were ambushed by more than five invitations to act as dates for Homecoming, and only managed to worm their way back to the Versa after lying and promising to meet the girls there.

 

At least they knew where to go now, but there was now also an added pressure of avoiding those girls at all costs while simultaneously trying to stop a serial killer and save the world. It was safe to say Peter was a nervous wreck by the time they pulled up at the school, yet somehow he managed to hide it impressively well. It was only his pallid complexion and shaking hands that betrayed him. Whereas Ando, on the other hand, seemed to be glowing pink and unable to stop fidgeting with nerves.

 

It was five minutes to eight when they exited the car, the promised future pressing down upon both heads almost painfully. Again, every passing second lost them valuable time, but Peter gripped Ando's elbow softly but firmly, stopping him, before they went inside.

 

“You don't have to do this, y'know.” He said with a strangled voice, but managed to send Ando a small smile. “It'll be dangerous, we don't even know if... you'll survive. I won't blame you if you want to go back. At least I know what's in store for me, Isaac's paintings haven't been wrong so far. And it's not fair to drag you down with me.”

 

Ando blinked incredulously at him, as if he'd never heard anything so stupid in his entire life. “You can't go in there alone, Peter. It is too dangerous! You need a wingman. A sidekick.” He puffed out his chest slightly, subconsciously. “I will help you change the future too.”

 

The strength and assurance of his unlikely companion made Peter smile his first genuine smile since the plane had landed. He wished he could share some of Ando's bravery. Again, he reached out and gripped Ando's shoulder, as if maybe some of his strength would transfer into Peter at the same time he gave Ando his gratitude. “I'm really glad you came with me.” He said, and the joint glint of destiny shone in both pairs of eyes. They were really going to do this.

 

At three minutes to eight, they decided to split up to cover more entrances to the building to stop the killer getting inside. Separating was the sensible thing to do, but still Peter worried for Ando's safety. And of course for his own as well.

 

It didn't take Peter long to find the exact spot where Isaac's painting depicted he'd die, and at a loss for anything else to do now that he was finally here, all he could do was wait. The distant sounds of cheering, chanting and hundreds of excited teenagers floated towards him from the football field, and Peter tried to let that calm him. Every innocent person here depended on his courage staying strong, not to mention all the other parents and children around the world. What, really, was the death of one skinny hospice nurse from New York in the big picture? His sacrifice would spare the lives of millions, and if that wasn't cause enough, nothing was.

 

Peter had to physically turn his back on the clock to stop himself watching the seconds bring him closer to his looming curtain call. Yet still the lure of the clock burned a hole in the back of Peter's head, despite how hard he tried to ignore it. Did the painting mean he would  _ die  _ at 8:12, or he'd already be  _ dead _ at 8:12? He tried not to dwell too much on that, and shuffled from foot to foot while scouring the darkness for any sign of the dark figure of a killer approaching.

 

He missed his mother. He wondered what she'd think of him when she learned how her youngest son had died... probably she'd be more angry at his stupidity than upset at his demise. At least at first.

 

He missed Nathan. The last time he'd talked to his brother things had still been prickly between them. And Simone had said he had destroyed the original painting to spare Peter's life. He hoped Nathan wouldn't be too angry once he found out what he'd done.

 

He hoped Ando was alright.

 

*

 

With less than ten minutes to go until the inevitable, Peter jumped at the sounds of a terrified scream from inside. Instantly his senses jolted to life, adrenaline buzzing through his veins as his mind took a moment to catch up... it must have been the cheerleader! The killer must have somehow found her! He'd been wrong to wait here... So without further thinking, Peter wrenched open the doors to the building and bolted down the hallways, desperate and with no idea which way to go.

 

Another scream echoed horribly, and he picked up his pace, sprinting down endless, identical corridors lined with lockers on each side. His thoughts were spinning around his frantic mind as his heartbeat rushed in his ears. The girl could be anywhere! Maybe it was already too late! The killer must have come in through a different entrance! “Save the cheerleader, save the world”... _Had he failed_...?

 

He slipped his way around another corner, eyes searching desperately for any clue or hint of where to go – and then he crashed, forcefully and painfully, into a small, blonde cheerleader drenched sickeningly in blood.

 

The pair struggled for a moment, the girl trying to push past and Peter trying to hold her steady enough to see her clearly. He had to shout to be heard over her crying. “Hey! Stop! What happened? Are you alright?!”

 

The girl's wide eyes shone tearfully into Peter's as she slowly took in his face. She was stunned, deeply disturbed, but very much alive. “Th- that man! He...  _ he killed Jackie _ !” She sobbed, small hands clinging to Peter's arms with a vice-like grip. 

 

“...Wh...?” Peter breathed out a defeated breath, looking over the girl's head dejectedly in the direction she'd come. A girl had died. And he'd been standing outside uselessly when he should've been in here  _ doing  _ something... then the worst thought hit, winding him.  _ Had he really failed to save  _ **the** _ cheerleader...?  _

 

“H- help! You've got to help me! We've got to  _ run! _ ” The girl in his arms gasped, squirming again to get past once more. Peter was pulled roughly back to the present, knowing that even if he'd failed to save the other one - Jackie, she'd been called - he could at least do his bit for this girl. 

 

“Hey, it's alright! Where did this happen? I need to go stop him!” He tried to sound calm and collected, but his breaths were coming almost as heavy as the girl's. She shook her head, pushing Peter back a few steps with the determination to escape.

 

“In the locker room! He's after me! He's coming!”

 

A scuffling noise at the far end of the hall caught both their attentions: Peter gasped and the cheerleader squealed, and suddenly Peter felt an unexpected wash of tranquillity take him over, and he gladly succumbed to it. “Quickly!” he hissed, so their pursuer wouldn't be able to hear. “You have to run, alright? Get outside, and find people! Call the cops!”

 

“But what about you?!” She gasped, voice tight and chin quivering, and her little fingers dug deeper into his arms.

 

“Don't worry about me – I have to save my friend!” Peter insisted, peeling her hands off him and waiting until he was sure she'd taken his advice before going deeper into the rabbit hole. While Peter ran, he didn't think of the doomed fate of the world, or that he was running right into the path of a serial killer, or even that he was going to die in five minutes time. Instead, all he could think about was Ando, how he'd dragged the guy into this situation, and for all he knew he could already be dead because of Peter.

 

Once he reached the end of the corridor – where the noise had come from – Peter was once again almost knocked off his feet by colliding into another sprinting person. He scrambled to regain his footing, clutching his winded ribs and readying himself for the worst.

 

“Ando?!” He gasped, relief such as he'd never felt consuming him.

 

“Peter?!” Ando squeaked, sounding just as terrified as Peter felt. “You're alive!” He stated, shocked.

 

“Yeah, but I dunno for how much longer. Listen,” Peter grabbed the sleeve of Ando's jacket, talking quieter now. “I think the cheerleader's dead. I was wrong, I made a mistake.” The words tore at his throat and threatened his tear-ducts, but there was no time for that now.

 

“I know!” Ando exclaimed, eyebrows as high on his forehead as they could possibly get. “The killer... he's coming! We have to run!” His face was now fully flushed and his hands were shaking slightly with the thrill of the ride. Together, breathless, terrified and way out of their depths, both men hurried in the direction the girl had gone. 

 

“I saw the girl the brain man killed.” Ando confessed. “I would have tried to stop him but... he was too strong. Too powerful.” The expectancy and foreshadowed future was palpable between them, and they were now balancing precariously on the edge of the unknown.

 

“Hey, there's nothing you could've done.” Peter panted. Still holding Ando's sleeve, he tightened his grip on the fabric in a consoling gesture. “At least you made it out alive. But there's another girl, I think he hurt her. We have to protect her, c'mon!” 

 

Panting, shaking, their clumsy footsteps echoed throughout the empty corridors, yet nobody came to investigate the noise except the foreboding shadow of their relentless pursuer: stronger in his absence and louder in his silence.

 

It didn't take them long to find her, apparently she had taken a few wrong turns in her distressed state, and had somehow ended up at the stadium. She screamed again when she saw the two men following her, tripping on the stone benches and trying her best to crawl away backwards. The poor girl was traumatised, but at least she was alive, Peter reassured himself as he ran to reach her. “Hey! It's alright, we're gonna look after you!” He kneeled by her side, reaching out to try and help her to her feet, but she wouldn't stop retreating or tear her petrified gaze away from looking over Peter's shoulder. _The killer-!_

 

Then suddenly, Peter felt his joints locking and his whole body seizing so tightly it was impossible to move an inch. He grunted at the uncomfortable, unfamiliar sensation, and noticed that the cheerleader, too, was also frozen to the spot. With the two of them held in place, Peter stuck in an awkward half-crouching position, there was no hope for escape. The brain man had found them, and Peter had not only let the world down, but also this poor girl and Ando too.

 

It took barely a moment for Peter to realise he still had movement of his neck and head, and flicked his hair out of his face to peer over his shoulder. He might be panic-stricken and hopeless, but he wouldn't allow the end to come without staring it in the face. The dominant Petrelli stubborn gene had well and truly imprinted that moral into him.

 

Looking for an ominous, villainous silhouette creeping towards the three of them from the open doors... all Peter could see was Ando. Standing tall and looking proud, with one hand held out in Peter's direction. Confused, he frowned and struggled fruitlessly against his invisible bonds. “Ando? What're you doing? We need to get away!”

 

Ando laughed, a genuinely amused chortle before dropping his dark, penetrating eyes back to Peter. His voice was richly coated with glee. And not one ounce Japanese. “My name isn't Ando.”

 

It took a moment for those words to sink in, But still Peter couldn't make sense of it all. Not-Ando bent his knees to lower himself more to the cheerleader's height. His head tipped slightly and he crooned at her. “Aw. Is widdle-miss indestructable scawed...?” Then he straightened back up again, chuckling deeply as if this was all extremely amusing.

 

But Peter had missed the joke. He had seen his fair share of death and misery due to his job and some family issues, but he had still somehow grown up to be ever the optimist, and to truly believe the best of people. It wasn't until now that the thought first struck him that maybe that was his biggest weakness.

 

The cheerleader was crying to his left, her voice very high-pitched and choked with fear. “It was  _ him! He's  _ the man who killed Jackie!”

 

Peter blinked up dejectedly at Ando. No, not Ando. The Brain Man. Who  _ he  _ had so innocently, so foolishly, led to this very spot. “But... why? Why did you...?!”

 

“You  _ really  _ should be more careful with how you open conversations,  _ Peeta Petrellee _ ...” The tall, darkly handsome man purred delightedly. He said Peter's name in a mocking interpretation of a Japanese accent, and Peter felt his his cheeks burn with betrayal and humiliation. “A guy could learn a  _ lot  _ about you from all the important information you share within the first few seconds of meeting. You're so naive, and eager to be a hero that you're blind to anything other than the perfect world you so desperately crave to be a part of. You  _ really  _ shouldn't expect everyone to be as  _ good _ as you are...” 

 

He paced slightly back and forth on light feet, almost like a child who was recounting the exciting trip they had last weekend. It was a chilling contradiction to the words, actions and morals that stained his hands and soul. “Don't get me wrong,” The man who Peter had so foolishly trusted chimed in a sing-song voice, “your... fervour to help a  _ poor, innocent  _ girl is adorable. But foolish. Like I said: you're blind. You were so trusting in a stranger to help you “save the world” that you weren't even suspicious that I don't look remotely Japanese...?! Please! You were a disaster waiting to happen. All I had to do was fake an accent and nod along to everything you said – it wasn't even like it was hard! You gave me everything I needed and more. It was thanks to you I even knew where to find her...” Those unforgiving coals swivelled to the cheerleader and back to Peter, who felt his insides liquefy. “So thank you, Peter. I couldn't have done it without you.”

 

Fury began to surge through Peter's body, and he set his jaw when yet another horrible thought hit. “Where are Hiro and Ando?! If you've hurt them...!”

 

Another joyful, teasing laugh accompanied the next words. “You'll what? What will you do? Bat your eyes and pout? Swish your hair at me?” The telekinetic restraint stopped Peter from being able to recoil when the killer reached down and let a lock of Peter's hair stroke through his fingers appreciatively. “And don't worry about “Hiro and Ando”. They're still sitting at back at the diner, waiting for  _ you _ .” He tipped his head, bottom lip pouted in mock pity. “Peeta Petrellee. Who will  _ never _ come to help. And by the time they realise that... it will be far. Too. Late.”

 

There was nothing Peter could do except stare and watch the horrific scene unfold before him. Every word out of that mouth felt like another ice-cube slipping down his insides and settling into a congealed mess of shame and guilt in his gut. So much for being extraordinary, let alone a world-saving hero. He'd let everyone down. Hiro, Nathan, Ma... it didn't matter what they would think of him anyway, he didn't even matter. It was about so much more than him. It was all over.

 

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Peter ground out through gritted teeth, panting with the extersion of trying to escape the hold on him.

 

The killer's eyes glinted, as if he'd been waiting for that very question to be asked. He stood tall again and raised both arms magnificently with a smirk. “My name is Sylar. And I'm doing this because nobody... can... stop... me...” The smirk turned into a sneer, thick, black brows lowered dangerously, and at 08:11pm he lifted his hand, pointed a finger directly at his two helpless captives, and began to cut.

 


End file.
